


how my heart does swell

by chocobos



Series: stay close to me [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Puppy Acquirement, Canon Compliant, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Promnis Week, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, if you just ignore everything squeenix has said about world of ruin lmao, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: Prompto doesn’t know what they can do for her. Lestallum still remains the only reliable outpost with constant electricity, and even then their supplies dwindle by the day. But, still, Prompto can’t justleaveher out here. She’s hurt, and Prompto’s never been able to turn away from an animal in need.





	how my heart does swell

**Author's Note:**

> HUWWO!!! this is a little late but considering i start it a little less than fourteen hours ago, i really don't think i made so bad on time! anyway, this is for day 5 of promnis week, for the prompt 'living together/domestic'. and yes... i took that as an excuse to write yet another take on prompto and ignis being roommates, go me!! 
> 
> day 4 is being worked on as we speak, but as it is going to be rather long, i've decided to (hopefully) post that one the make up day, though i want it to be perfect so it may take a lil longer :>
> 
> aNYWAY i had so much fun writing this, i love wRITING ABOUT DOGS i'm so sorry this fic is basically prompto's love ode to ignis and dogs and you know what? he is so valid!!! 
> 
> anyway tonnie is based on a shetland and i pictured her looking a lil something like [this](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/17/1c/68/171c6829bd329a88b83d494f22840ac3.jpg). she is very fluffy and deserves 3 million dog treats fjosdihg 
> 
> ANYWAY TYSM AS ALWAYS 2 MY BF FOR MAKING SURE THIS DIDNT SUCK fsjoidgh  
> i hope you guys enjoy this!! let me know what you think if you'd like :^ <3

Prompto’s out on a solo hunt when he first finds her. 

This kind of thing used to make him nervous, going out in the long dark by himself, but when your best friend disappears into a magic crystal with no signs of return, Prompto supposes you get used to doing things you wouldn’t normally do.

He blows the smoke off his gun since no one is around to make fun of him for it, watching as the last Ariadne finally falls to the ground. She doesn’t get back up. 

That one was a little close. There’s an open gash on his calf that he can feel trickling blood down his leg, and a bruise is blooming across his temple. It's certainly not the worst, and it won’t be the last. 

“At least that’s over with now,” Prompto mumbles to himself. He quickly sweeps the area for anything he can bring back and get some use out of, but doesn’t find anything other than dirt and a faded hunter’s dog tag. 

Prompto runs his thumb across the surface delicately, forcing the bubbling grief that lingers beneath the surface back down. He remembers, all those years ago, hunting around Leide, to at least bring  _ something  _ back. Noctis had been so adamant about it back then. He knows that wouldn’t have changed, regardless of how long he’s been gone. 

Prompto pockets the item, and then heads in the direction where he parked his truck. 

  
  
  
  
  


——

  
  
  
  
  


 

Prompto gets halfway there before he starts to hear her. 

At first he thinks it’s nothing more than the wind or a particularly bored daemon playing tricks on him. But, the further he walks, the closer the yipping and whining gets. That sounds distinctively  _ not  _ daemon-like. 

“Who’s there?” Prompto calls, ridiculously. The whining comes to a standstill for a few moments, then picks back up with a new force. Prompto furrows his eyebrow, following the sounds as best he can. He’s gotten better at tracking under Dave’s training, but he still isn’t the best. 

He comes across a small patch of rocks — he shines his light on them, sees the dark brown stains of old blood and feels a little queasy immediately. He drags the light until it’s focused on the ground beneath the rock once he’s regained control of his stomach again. 

He lasts five seconds before bursting into tears.   
  
  
  
  


 

 

——

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s bad. 

It takes Prompto an hour to get the poor thing into his truck, having to readjust his grip on her every time he moves her wrong and she whimpers. Her fur is matted, obviously having been on her own for a while, and there are small patches of skin here and there where her fur has rubbed off. 

Prompto doesn’t know what they can do for her. Lestallum still remains the only reliable outpost with constant electricity, and even then their supplies dwindle by the day. But, still, Prompto can’t just  _ leave _ her out here. She’s hurt, and Prompto’s never been able to turn away from an animal in need. 

(He still remembers Tiny, how she had slept in that little bed he made from old blankets all night. He’d been too terrified to actually sleep that first night; he’d never been more worried. Taking care of a sick and injured dog was a welcome distraction from the usual emptiness of the house.)    
  
(He remembers the puppy on the road, the one he almost crashed into a tree for. He couldn’t stand the thought of it staying there by itself. It looked well fed enough that he knew the mother probably just got separated, but he’d have been damned if he just sat there. He called for the first aid kit from Ignis, and removed the thorn, cleaning the puppy off. Prompto still recalls the joy that settled in his heart when the mother found them.)    


Only, this time the dog he finds isn’t a puppy. She’s at least three or four years old, none of the puppy fat hanging around in her face or on her belly. She looks like she hasn’t eaten a decent meal that wasn’t scraps for a long time, and he swears the look in her eyes when he finally got her situated in the back of his truck was almost  _ thankful _ . 

Prompto glances back at her every now and then on the road. Her injuries aren’t severe enough that he’s worried that she won’t survive the trip, but still. He finds his gaze wandering back to her every few miles. She hasn’t moved much, and her eyes are closed; Prompto doubts she’s ever felt safe enough to properly sleep.    
  
Prompto sighs, feeling the pang in his chest get significantly deeper.

The closer they get to Lestallum, the more nervous he gets. He didn’t expect to find an injured dog out while on a hunt, which means Ignis has no idea Prompto’s bringing one back. They’ve never talked about pets in the apartment; there was never really a reason. They all kind of figured most of the animals from before just simply didn’t make it.    
  
Ignis had entertained him back when they’d first started, but that was different. They were out on the road, and they didn’t have to take care of any of them afterwards. But, this. Prompto knows as well as Ignis does that releasing her after she’s better is as good as killing her.    
  
They have to keep her, Prompto decides. Or find someone in town who can, on the chance that Ignis doesn’t want her.    
  
Does Ignis even like dogs?    
  
Prompto hopes so. He really, truly hopes so.    
  
Because the more he looks at her in the rearview mirror, the more sure he is that he won’t ever be able to let her go. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

\----

  
  
  
  
  
  


The apartment is quiet and dark when Prompto gets back, which means that Ignis is probably in his bedroom.    
  
Prompto breathes a small sigh of relief. He has her in his arms, holding her in a very awkward position as to avoid all the scrapes on her skin. He gently coos at her when she whimpers, either from the unfamiliar space or from the hurt, Prompto isn’t sure; it sucks all the same. He shoulders his way into their only bathroom, and sets her down in the tub. 

 

Shampoos and conditioners are especially hard to come by, and they’ve had to adjust. He’s not sure if any of the products they have are safe for dogs, either. Prompto stares at her pitifully cowering in the tub for a few moments, before turning on his heel to go get Ignis’ opinion. 

He’s smart about this stuff. He’ll know. 

Hopefully. 

Prompto runs right into the man himself, not hearing Ignis sneak up behind him. He yelps as soon as they make contact, Prompto’s face slamming into the soft, pillowy muscles — seriously, so muscled; Ignis has only gotten beefier in the years following Noctis’ disappearance — of Ignis’ chest. 

His friend chuckles, hands reaching up to grip Prompto’s shoulders, steadying him easily. 

“Prompto? Are you injured?” Ignis asks, worried crease in his eyebrows and all. 

Prompto winces. He  _ is  _ injured, but he’d be pressed to really care about that right now. He has a dog to save. 

_ They _ have a dog to save. 

“Uh, kind of? But, that’s not important right now!” Prompto says, maybe a little too loud in the small space of their bathroom. 

Ignis makes a face like Prompto’s being stupid again, which is fair because Prompto probably is being stupid, but not about this. 

“Prompto, the last time you gave me that excuse you were hiding a broken wrist,” Ignis says. He’s not wearing his glasses today, so Prompto has a front row seat to the worry gathered around the edges of the marred skin of his eyes. Ignis has completely memorized the layout of their apartment by now so he leans confidently next to Prompto and taps the toilet seat pointedly. “ _ Sit.” _

Normally, that alone would have Prompto parking his ass immediately, but he hesitates this time. “After, Iggy. I promise. We have — we have a bit of a problem.” Prompto whispers. 

The dog takes it upon herself in that moment to let out a truly pathetic bark, making Prompto wince again. Well, so much for breaking the news about this to Ignis gently. 

Ignis’ mouth retreats to a thin line. “Would you care to tell me why our tub is barking?” 

Prompto sighs, stepping around Ignis so he can sit on the toilet, reaching forward to gently scratch behind the dog’s ears. He can’t tell what breed she is beneath the gunk and matting, but she’s still kind of fluffy, in a scraggly way. 

“I found her after finishing off those Ariadnes out in the Slough. She -- there was a lot of blood. She obviously hasn’t had a good meal in a while, either.” Prompto tries, to keep his voice neutral, but he’s sure Ignis can tell how much he’s fighting to maintain nonchalance. 

Ignis nods, and his mouth loses its weary tilt. “I see. Do you see any lesions on her, Prompto? Anything that would need to be sanitized or bandaged?” Ignis asks, leaning down to open the cabinet below the sink to get to their rather large first aid kit. 

(They still need to restock it regularly.)    
  
Prompto coos at the dog a little more, running gentle fingers along her face and around her ears. He babbles, not letting himself feel embarrassed about talking to a  _ dog _ ; if there’s ever been a dog who needed to be talked to, it’s this one. 

“You’re such a strong girl, aren’t ya?” Prompto whispers. “Surviving out there by yourself. We’re going to make you feel better, okay? Well, the hydrogen peroxide might hurt a bit, but I promise you’ll feel better after.” 

Ignis’ hand drops on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Prompto glances up at his face and is surprised to find a slight flush to Ignis’ cheeks. Prompto raises an eyebrow, reminding himself it isn’t worth investigating. It  _ is _ a little toasty in here.

“May I?”    
  
Prompto nods, pushing himself off the toilet to let Ignis take over, and once he has, Prompto drops to the floor in front of the tub, letting his hand bury reassuringly in her hair as soon as he’s able. 

“She has a gash on her chest, a bit underneath where a collar would go,” Prompto says. “She has a bunch of hairless sores all over her where her skin has been rubbed raw, too, but I couldn’t find anything else that hasn’t already started healing, but it was dark and I only had a flashlight.”    


“That’s alright, Prompto. Thank you,” Ignis tells him, voice warm. Prompto watches his hands as he runs them over the dog, and his heart clenches at how  _ gentle _ Ignis is being. The dog is leaning into his touch a little bit, as much as an injured and starving dog can.    
  
Prompto loses the battle with the smile that takes over his face pretty quickly. 

He wants to ask if Ignis if they can consider keeping her, but doesn’t know if it’s too early for that. Prompto hasn’t even been home for ten minutes. He should chill. Probably. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Prompto asks, once Ignis has stopped checking her for injuries, reaching for the hydrogen peroxide bottle that’s labeled by the indents on the top of the cap. 

“There’s an old injury in her hind leg that hasn’t healed properly, so she may have trouble getting around, but I do believe she’ll be alright,” Ignis says, voice pitched low not to frighten the dog in the tub. “You may want to comfort her now, Prompto. This will sting her a bit.”    
  
Prompto nods, fingers immediately returning to their motions of rubbing soothing circles at the back of her neck. He’d get in there with her if their tub was small enough they both barely fit in it alone. 

“I think she’s about four years old,” Prompto says. “Though it’ll probably be easier to tell with a good bath and meal in her.” 

Ignis nods. “We’ll give her the leftover salmon Gladio caught on his last fishing run.” 

Prompto grins. He knows Ignis was saving that for dinner one day this week. “Thanks, Iggy,” he whispers, and he hopes the other man knows that if his hands were free, he’d be wrapping his arms around him instead. 

He doesn’t have to look at Ignis’ face to hear his smile. “My pleasure, Prompto.” 

  
  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  
  


It’s nearing dinnertime -- or whatever constitutes as dinnertime these days -- by the time they get her looking somewhat presentable. They’ll have to borrow Gladio’s electric razor to get the matting completely off of her, but she’s looking way better than she was when Prompto first found her. 

“She looks like a brand new dog,” Prompto says, as he’s rubbing one of their fraying towels gently along her fur. He’s not sure she’s getting any drier, but she seems to enjoy the attention.

Ignis hums. “Can you tell what breed she is?” 

“She’s lost too much of her fur to tell for sure, but I think some kind of shepherd? Maybe.” Prompto says.    
  
Prompto pushes himself to his feet, throwing the towel in the small hall closet to wash later. He watches as she looks around for a few moments and then gives in to the urge to shake the excess water off of her. She already seems livelier. Prompto knows it isn’t this easy, her recovery will have some bumps in it, but he decides to take the victory as it is. 

They exit the bathroom, letting her have free reign of their apartment. Ignis is right, she can’t properly put her weight on her left hind leg, but aside from a small limp, she doesn’t seem to have any other issue. She’s going to be okay. She’s going to be  _ okay _ .   
  
Prompto finally lets out the sigh of relief he’s been holding since he pulled up to Lestallum. 

“Heya, girl,” Prompto greets. “You hungry, baby? You want some food? Well, good news for you.” 

Despite how tired she must be, she follows them to the kitchen. Prompto smiles, heading towards the fridge to get her some of that salmon. He pauses, for a moment, outside of it, and turns to Ignis. 

“Iggy?” Prompto asks, unsure.    
  
“Yes, Prompto?” 

“Thank you,” he says. He wonders if Ignis can hear his smile. He hopes so. 

Ignis shakes his head. “You needn’t thank me so often.” 

He snorts. “Dude, let me show my gratitude, okay? You helped me help her, that means -- that means a lot, okay?”    
  
Ignis turns towards him as well, and he knows, he  _ knows _ Ignis can’t see more than the vague outline of him, at best, but he swears Ignis sees everything. The taller man reaches down to gently squeeze Prompto’s hand. 

“I am always happy to help you,” Ignis tells him, and he -- Prompto doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so earnest. It does stupid things to his heart, makes it take off in delirious happiness that Prompto can’t even begin to catch up to. 

“Likewise, Iggy,” Prompto tells him. 

_ Likewise _ . 

  
  
  
  


 

\----

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Prompto lasts three days before he breaks down and asks Ignis if they can keep her.    
  
The thing is, Ignis indulges Prompto a lot. They started living together three years ago, when Prompto got sick of being away from his best friends and gave up his position in Hammerhead so he could be closer to at least one of them. Gladio pops in often enough, sometimes once or twice a week. Prompto misses Noctis with everything he has, but they’re getting by. 

They’ll make sure the world is something  _ good _ to come back to.    
  
So, Ignis indulges Prompto a lot. He fixes Prompto’s favorite meals practically every night, cooking dishes he thinks Prompto will like on the ones he doesn't. He lets Prompto hum obnoxiously while he cleans his guns, and puts up with the nightmares that he can hear from across the apartment. Prompto’s room is the smaller than the two, really only the size of a closet; there’s enough room for a bed and a nightstand, but that’s about it.    
  
Not that Ignis doesn’t have his fair share of nightmares, but… Prompto knows he isn’t easy to live with.    
  
And Ignis still makes time to show he cares.    
  
Prompto won’t lie, he feels more than a little guilty that he’s about to ask him to do something else. Tonberry -- he knows he shouldn’t name her, shouldn’t get attached, but she sank her claws into his heart the moment he heard her whimpering -- has settled in to the apartment nicely. Ignis says her wounds are healing as to be expected, which is a huge relief. 

They haven’t talked about finding her another home, but they haven’t talked about her staying either. Which makes Prompto nervous. He doesn’t want to force Ignis to have an animal he doesn’t want, but the thought of Tonnie ending up on the streets again or going to anyone else that isn’t them… Well. 

Prompto fucking hates it. 

He waits until he absolutely cannot wait anymore, and that just so happens to be after Ignis returns from gathering what they’ll need for the week at the converted market in the center of town. Prompto’s spent the day with Tonnie by his side, reading a book Ignis had recommended with her head on his feet. He had taken at least thirty-five pictures of her. He wishes he could send them to Ignis.    
  
Maybe he still should. He thinks Ignis would like that.    
  
Probably. 

They’re still on the couch when Ignis walks in, though Tonnie lifts her head when she hears the keys outside the door jangle. Prompto leans down to pet scritch the top of her head gently, and grins at Ignis when he comes in to view.    
  
“Heya, Iggy!” Prompto greets. He doesn’t want to disturb her lying at his feet, so he doesn’t bound over there… but he wants to. “How was the market, today? Anything cool come in?” 

Ignis laughs. “Hello, Prompto. The market was the same as usual, although I did find something for our little friend, as it were.”    
  
Prompto thinks he does an amazing job at acting like that doesn’t nearly knock him off the couch. Ignis got Tonnie something at the market, which means he cares enough to use their limited funds on something for a dog that isn’t even theirs yet.    
  
Astrals, he wants so much for her to be theirs. 

“You hear that, girl? Iggy got you something!” Prompto tells her, and Tonnie cocks her head like she’s trying very hard to understand. Prompto coos at her. He gives her a few more scratches before finally pushing himself off the couch as gently as he can so he can walk over to the kitchen.    
  
Ignis is rummaging through the beat-up backpack they share when they’re out and about. Prompto hears the pitter-patter of Tonnie’s claws hitting the linoleum as she moves to follow him. He really wants to get used to that sound.    
  
He bites back a sigh, not wanting to appear  _ that _ desperate, and presses his shoulder into Ignis’ as he looks through the backpack.    
  
“What did you get her?” Prompto asks, curiously.    
  
Ignis tsks. “We shan’t ruin the surprise for her,” he says, conspiratorially. There’s an amused slant to his mouth and Prompto’s breath catches on the edges of his throat. Ignis is pretty much the most attractive man he has ever seen, has been so since Prompto was fifteen and caught a glimpse of him opening the door for Noctis after school one day. Prompto’s been trying so desperately to get Ignis’ attention for so long. 

Prompto doesn’t know how Ignis doesn’t know, by now. Perhaps he does, and he’s too polite to bring it up to him directly. 

He pouts. “C’mon, Iggy! I won’t tell her,” Prompto whispers, leaning closer into Ignis’ face, trying to convey how annoying and persuasive he can be from tone alone.    
  
Ignis makes a sound a few moments later, like he hadn’t even heard Prompto. He sees him pull out something wrapped in parchment paper, or something like it, and he hands it over to Prompto without another word. He takes it carefully, bring it to his chest. He can’t tell what it is through the paper, but it feels soft.    
  
“Well, go on, now,” Ignis urges, a small, crooked smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Open it for her.”    
  
Prompto doesn’t need to be told twice. There’s a little ribbon tied around the package, and he smiles down at it as he thinks about the fact that Ignis probably requested that specifically. He gently slides his finger underneath it to loosen the knot at the base. It comes apart easily enough, Prompto placing the scrap in Ignis’ awaiting hand. 

He unfolds the edges of the paper, and when he sees the stuffed chocobo plushie sitting there, Prompto can’t help the noise he makes. It sounds halfway between a sob and a laugh. The stuffed animal has obviously been through a lot, there are stains of dirt and what looks like coffee across its beak. Prompto drags a finger along it and smiles.    
  
“Iggy,” he whispers. “She’s going to love this. Thank you.” Prompto says.    
  
It seems like he’s thanking Ignis a lot these days.    
  
Prompto doesn’t mind. He always wants Ignis to know how grateful he is; for everything.    
  
“You’re very welcome,” Ignis tells him, and he sounds  _ really _ pleased. Prompto takes his gaze off the stuffed chocobo, and is surprised when he catches the look on Ignis’ face. For the first time in a long time, Prompto finds himself unable to read the expression on his face. There’s a small flush gathered on the tops of his cheeks like he’s pleased that Prompto likes the gift he got their Kind-of-but-Not-Really-Dog. 

Prompto can’t take it anymore. He patiently holds out the toy to Tonnie, watching as he tilts her head curiously, peering at the stuffed animal like she’s afraid it’s going to attack her. Once she deems it safe enough, she hesitantly reaches out to sniff it. Her tail starts wagging a few moments later, and this must not be the first time she’s had a toy, as she leans forward to take the toy from him and brings it to the foot of the couch to lay down with it.    


“She loves it,” Prompto says, and takes a step forward towards Ignis. “Hey, Ignis? Can I ask you something?”    
  
Ignis looks pleased. “You may ask me anything you wish, Prompto.”    
  
Prompto swallows nervously. “Can -- Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

The taller man makes a noise, setting down their backpack on the kitchen counter so he can step forward and feel for Prompto’s shoulders. He pauses there for a moment; his glasses are off again -- since when did Ignis stop wearing his glasses completely at home; why didn’t Prompto notice before  _ now? _ \-- and Prompto is certain Ignis is ‘staring’ meaningfully at him again.    
  
He has no idea why.    
  
“Prompto, that is not something you need to ask for,” Ignis tells him. Then strong arms are closing the distance between them, looping around his back to pull Prompto closer. The height difference between them is enough so that Prompto’s head tucks perfect under Ignis’ chin. It’s been a long time since they’ve hugged, possibly not since the first few months after Noctis vanished.    
  
Prompto’s missed it.    
  
He never wanted to stop, but after those first few weeks the three of them pulled themselves together and devoted all their energy to make sure they had enough resources and people to survive until whenever Noctis returned. They all knew he would, eventually. It was just a matter of when.    
  
That was six years ago, and they haven’t stopped fighting since.    
  
Prompto sighs into the hug, his arms looping around Ignis’ waist. He can hear the sounds of Tonnie happily chewing on her toy in the corner, and all Prompto can think about is just how much he would like it if they had more days like this. 

“Can I ask you something?” Prompto asks, mumbling into Ignis’ neck.    
  
A draft must go through the apartment at that moment due to the fact that he’s almost positive Ignis shudders in his arms. He wraps his arms around him tighter in an attempt to warm him up, though he’s probably too small to really make a difference.

Ignis doesn’t answer, but he gives an hum, which Prompto takes as cue to continue with it. 

“Do you like her?” He whispers. 

He can’t bring himself to pull away yet, but he knows that Ignis will do it for him when he wants to. 

“The dog?” asks Ignis.    
  
“Yeah,” Prompto starts. “I don’t want to give her up. I know we’ve never talked about getting a dog before, and I understand if it’s a responsibility you don’t want to deal with, but --” he cuts himself off before he can embarrass himself further. He’s thankful that he can bury his burning cheeks in the fabric on Ignis’ chest.    
  
Prompto is eight-seven percent positive Ignis’ arms tighten around him, just a fraction. 

“Prompto, I was never going to ask you to get rid of her,” Ignis says, and his voice is so gentle Prompto thinks he might cry.    
  
“Really?” Prompto breathes, eyes wide with bone-crushing hope. He thinks some of it might leak into his tone because Ignis gently pushes him away from his chest, holding him by the shoulders again. He thinks it’s so Prompto has a clear view of his space.    
  
“Indeed. I may be blind, but anyone could ascertain how much you care about her. I would never think to separate the two of you.” 

Prompto’s heart feels so light, he thinks it might float right out of his chest. 

“Do you want a dog?” 

Ignis hums. “I never entertained the idea seriously. I was much too busy before. It was a nice thought, I’ll admit. I think she’ll fit right in.”    
  
Prompto grins. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Especially when one of us goes out on hunts.” Prompto had been thinking about that a lot, how she could sleep on his bed when Ignis was away, and the quietness of the house and absence of his snores from the next room weren’t there to comfort Prompto into peaceful sleep. 

The taller man squeezes his shoulders, giving them one, two, three pats before letting go of him entirely. Prompto valiantly pretends he isn’t crushed and starts helping Ignis put away his purchases where they belong.    
  
They’ll all be together now. That’s all that matters.    
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

\----

  
  
  
  
  
  


Later that night, they’re on the couch with candles lit around them. Prompto’s curled up on one end with the book from earlier spread across his lap. Ignis is on the other end, sliding across the pages of the braille book he’s been reading for the last couple of nights. One of the refugees they’d taken in right at the start had taught Ignis how to read braille fluently. 

Prompto makes an effort to find as many braille books as he can when he’s out on runs and hunts. He hasn’t found as many as he’d like, but Ignis’ small pile of books in the corner of his bedroom is growing, however slow it may be.    
  
“So,” Prompto begins, once the silence has stretched on a little too long. “I came up with a name for her.”

Ignis’ fingers pause on the page. “Did you now?” 

Prompto laughs, a little sheepishly.   
  
“Yeah. It’s kind of stupid, though. You have to promise me you won’t laugh, Igster.”    
  
A ghost of a smirk plays at the older man’s mouth. “You have my word.”    
  
“Tonberry. Though I’ve been calling her Tonnie in my head.”    
  
Ignis promised he wouldn’t laugh, and he doesn’t, but Prompto can tell he wants to. There’s amusement lingering in his face anyway. It’s the exact reaction Prompto was hoping for. 

“I’ll confess I’m not as surprised as I should be that you named that poor animal after a daemon.”

Prompto snorts. “Please, dude. I know you love those little rascals, you can’t lie to me. I thought it fit her, you know? Tonberries are cute and so is she.”    
  
Ignis doesn’t stop himself from smiling this time. Prompto traces the curves of his smile with his eyes until they hurt from the movement, wanting to commit absolutely everything about this moment to memory. He never wants to forget.    


“Hm, I suppose I can appreciate the logic in that one,” Ignis says, and his voice is so excellently teasing that Prompto feels invincible. 

“I knew you’d come around to see my side, Igs,” says Prompto. 

“I always do, Prompto.” 

Prompto -- Prompto supposes he does.    
  


 

  
  
  


 

\----

  
  
  


 

 

They quickly settle into a rhythm after that.    
  
Prompto finds it’s a little easier to deal with his feelings for Ignis when there’s someone -- or in this case, something -- else in the house. Not that Prompto would ever think Ignis’ company is too much, but it’s nice to have a distraction from it all. He’s had to carry these feelings for over a decade by now; sometimes he’s just simply too tired.    
  
Tonnie helps when he has days like that, allows him to focus his energy on helping something instead of moping around all day like he used to. Gladio comes back two weeks after they decide they’re definitely keeping her, and he lets them use his electric razor without any fuss.    
  
He’s in the bathroom, just having finished up getting rid of the matted wads of fur all over Tonnie. She looks a bit like an overstyled poodle, but he thinks the Astrals can forgive him for that one. He unplugs it from the wall, and without the buzzing sound blocking out the noises from outside the room, it’s quite easy to pick up the voices coming from the living room.    


(“So, you and Blondie settled down nice and cozy with a dog, huh?” Gladio asks, voice sounding innocent enough, but Prompto knows better. 

Gladio is probably the only person left on Eos who is as nosey as Prompto is. 

Ignis doesn’t rise to the bait, or if he does it’s low enough that Prompto can’t hear it. Instead, all he says is, “Prompto found her on the side of the road a few months ago, which you would know if you didn’t get lost in the wilderness for three weeks.” 

Prompto has to bite back a laugh at that. Savage, Iggy. 

Gladio sounds a little more sheepish when he replies, “I know, I wasn’t supposed to be gone that long. I didn’t mean to worry you, Iggy, you know that.”    
  
Ignis sighs. “Yes, I know, Gladio.” 

There’s a faint sound, and Prompto knows Gladio just clapped Ignis on the back. He smiles, though he won’t deny it drops right off his face when the next few words tumble out of Gladio’s mouth.    
  
“You don’t need to play house with him,” Gladio says. “You should talk to him about this, Iggy. It’s not healthy to keep this shit to yourself.”    


What does that even mean? 

Playing house? Is that what Gladio thinks they’re doing? They’re  _ roommates _ . Regardless of Prompto’s feelings, they’ve made a life together, however small it may be.    
  
Prompto can imagine the look Gladio receives for saying that. Ignis. Tonnie lets out a whine when she realizes Prompto isn’t about to open the door for her anytime soon. He leans down to give her a few pets to appease her, noting that his fingers glide easier now. Her skin already feels much better from not having the mats rub up against it constantly.    
  
“I know, baby. Just a few more minutes, when we can go see Iggy and our new friend Gladio,” Prompto promises. It would be far too awkward to walk out now.   
  
He’s so caught up in comforting her that he completely misses whatever Ignis says next, and to be honest, well. He kind of forgets about it after that.)

Ignis has been away on a hunt for the last day and a half, and barring no delays, he should be home by tonight. Prompto plans on making him dinner, to thank him for everything he’s done for them the last couple of months. 

Against all odds, Ignis actually  _ likes _ Prompto’s cooking. He was never particularly bad at it, before; having to fend for yourself made sure of that. You either learned to take care of yourself or you starved. But he’s learned so much more since the long dark fell. He likes experimenting with dishes, and Ignis is as eager of a guinea pig as any. 

Tonight he chooses to make Ignis Chickatrice Spaghetti; it’s no secret the man loves tomatoes. It’s a recipe Prompto’s wanted to try for a while, and he’s finally managed to scrape together all the ingredients for it. If Ignis doesn’t make it back tonight -- Prompto will  _ not  _ worry to much about him, he won’t -- then he’ll stick it in the fridge until he gets back.    
  
Once he’s made sure that Tonnie is entertained with her favorite toy, the one Ignis got her at the beginning, he starts on dinner. He loses himself in it, running through the motions of starting to cook the chickatrice in the pan Ignis brought with them from Insomnia. Prompto feels nostalgia so strong whenever he sees it. 

He swears it still smells like the campfires they used to gather around.    
  
Tonnie perks up once he takes the garlic bread out of the oven. The door opens a few moments later, and he can tell Ignis is surprised when the smell of their meal hits him full force. He stops in middle of the doorway, momentarily forgetting himself. It takes several moments for the taller man to close the door behind him. Tonnie approaches him, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of her mouth happily.    
  
Ignis lets her sniff his fingers, giving her a few pets in a greeting before stepping towards the kitchen. Prompto lets his gaze settle on him once he gets closer. He doesn’t seem to be injured, but he is covered in daemon junk. 

Ignis somehow makes it look good. Prompto is  _ not _ jealous. 

“That smells divine,” Ignis greets.    
  
Prompto beams. “Thanks, Iggy! It should be ready in about five minutes. You should go wash up, and this’ll be ready when you get out.”    
  
Ignis doesn’t question him further, just flashes him a smile that sends Prompto’s pulse rushing in his ears. He heads for their bathroom.    
  
Prompto watches him go and pretends his heart isn’t caught in his throat while he does. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Oh, wow, Prompto,” Ignis says, after he’s taken the first bite of dinner. “This is absolutely lovely. The chickatrice is cooked perfectly.”    
  
Prompto thinks his face might melt off from the strength of his smile alone. Ignis has always been encouraging about Prompto honing in on his cooking, but this is a whole other level. If he were anyone else, Prompto would think Ignis almost sounds a little  _ floored.  _ Prompto’s probably imagining that.    
  
He has to be imagining that.    
  
“I’m really glad you like it, Iggy. I’ve been wanting to try this recipe out for ages and it took just as long to get all the ingredients. I… I had hoped you would like it.”    
  
Prompto’s hand trembles as he watches Ignis reach out to grasp his hand in his own in slow motion. His larger hand squeezes around Prompto’s own, and his touch lingers for a few moments too long before it retreats again.    
  
“I love everything you cook, Prompto, but this is simply something else.”    
  
Prompto feels a little lightheaded from all the blood that rushes to his face under the blanket of Ignis’ praise. 

“Iggy, I once served you undercooked pizza. We both know that’s a lie.”    
  
Ignis makes an ah-ah sound, which definitely should not be as endearing as it is.    
  
“Even then, Prompto. I have a fondness for everything you cook as it comes from you.” 

Prompto is shocked into silence for a long time. There’s so much fondness dripping from Ignis’ tone, he doesn’t know what to do with it. On one hand, it sounds like Ignis is saying absolutely everything Prompto’s spent a little less than half of his life hoping to hear. On the other… Prompto knows it’s idiotic to get his hopes up about this.    
  
Ignis is that good of a friend. He really is. Prompto’s been friends with him long enough to know that he’d do this for any single one of them.    
  
Prompto smiles at him. “ _ Iggy _ .” Prompto crows, embarrassed.

“Thank you, Prompto. This is all quite lovely.”    
  
“Dude. After everything you do for me, this is the least I could do,” Prompto says.    


Ignis shakes his head. He looks like he’s about to say something, but closes his mouth at the last minute. Prompto wants to ask him what he was going to say, but ultimately decides to respect Ignis’ privacy.    
  
It’s what the man would do for him.

  
  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  
  


It’s been a damn long day.

When Holly showed up at their door this morning, asking for help tightening the pipes and checking for leaks, Prompto had figured it’d take a few hours, tops. But, no.  _ Of course _ not. After nearly ten hours of running around, sticking himself in places he definitely shouldn’t stick himself in, and nearly electrocuting himself more times than he can count, he’s ready to get the hell out of dodge.    
  
He stays until Holly dismisses him once the last pipe is cleared, and accepts her pat on the back, thanking him for helping her out. Prompto waves her off, along with her promises of paying him back for this later. Prompto’s glad to help out, regardless of how tired he is, but right now he kind of really wants to get home to his dog and his roommate and collapse in bed for the next several hours.    
  
The door is unlocked when he gets home, so he pushes it open. The living room is dark but for a single candle that’s lit on the coffee table. He shuts the door behind him, finding it odd that Tonnie hasn’t come up to greet him yet, but brushes it off. She’s probably sleeping somewhere, he tells himself.    
  
It’s only after he’s shed his overcoat and thrown his keys on the kitchen counter that he realizes Ignis is on the couch. It takes him even longer to see Tonnie passed out on top of him, her head resting on his chest. Prompto makes a noise that thankfully stays low enough to not disturb Ignis. He’s not responsible for taking out his phone so he can snap a few (dozen) pictures.    


He allows himself to take a few steps closer. He’s never seen Ignis look so relaxed before, though he’s seen him asleep plenty of times. The ever-present crease between his eyebrows is smoothed out completely, one hand curled in the tufts of Tonnie’s fur, the other draping over the edge of the couch.    
  
Prompto smiles, snaps another picture of Ignis’ face and slides his phone in his pocket. 

He feels pretty creepy about it, but he finds himself unable to stop staring at them. And as he continues to gape at them curled up on the couch together, Tonnie’s head resting against Ignis’ smooth chest, Prompto realizes something.    
  
He realizes something  _ huge _ .    
  
_ He _ wants to be able to curl up next to Ignis like this, to wrap himself around the both of them and cuddle them like that always. He wants to have everything they have now, but more. He wants to wake up next to Ignis in the morning, so wrapped up in each other that it takes them ten minutes just to untangle.    
  
He wants brewing a pot of coffee together -- despite how much Ignis despises the instant stuff -- wants mornings filled with breakfast and laughter and walking the dog through the streets of Lestallum. He suddenly, with a startling clarity, understands exactly what Gladio was saying.  
  
Prompto doesn’t want to play house anymore.    
  
He wants it, this, to be tangible.    
  
Prompto wants Ignis to know, regardless of the outcome. Even if that means he faces rejection, he finally sees that the uncertainty of it all is worth it.    
  


Prompto doesn’t know how long how long he stands there, watching them on the couch, but it’s long enough that his knees start to ache something awful.    
  
It takes him a long time to retreat into his room, but not before he gently pulls a blanket around the both of them.    
  
  
  
  
  


 

\----

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It still takes a few days for Prompto to work up the courage to actually say something.    
  
Ignis hasn’t mentioned the whole blanket thing, but Prompto did wake up the next morning folded at the end of the couch. Prompto remembers smiling at it like an idiot for longer than he cares to admit.    


Things go on as normal. Sometimes, at night, they cook dinner; their mornings, when both of them are home and not on hunts are quiet, occasionally broken up by laughter at Tonnie’s antics. She’s really blossomed lately, and Prompto is so honored to see her true personality finally shine through.    
  
It’s a quiet night in, which is pretty much all their nights these days. The locals try to keep the morale alive by hosting events on the weekends, but Prompto and Ignis rarely go out to them. Sometimes they’re not home, and the times they are, well… they’d rather spend it inside. Prompto would rather spend it with Ignis. 

Ignis and Prompto are on the couch again, Tonnie’s laying between them, asleep, head lolling against her much beloved chocobo plushie. Despite the amount of other toys they’ve managed to scrounge up for her, that one is still her favorite. She pretty much takes it everywhere with her, which he doesn’t blame her for at all.    
  
If Ignis gave him something, he’d surely never be without it either. 

“She’s asleep against that plushie you got her again,” Prompto says. It’s been quiet for way too long; he needs human contact again.    
  
Prompto gets to watch as a pleased flush breaks out over Ignis’ cheeks. “She does seem to prefer that toy quite a bit.”    
  
“That’s ‘cause Tonnie has good taste,” Prompto teases. “It’s from you,  _ and  _ it’s a chocobo. She’s a smart girl.” The last few words dissolve into a coo, unable to stop himself.    
  
Ignis scoffs. “I assure you she doesn’t know any of the sort.”    
  
Prompto shakes his head, huffing an amused breath. 

“You have to accept the truth sooner or later.” 

The look on Ignis’ face can’t be described as anything else than  _ fond _ .    


“Hm,” Ignis hums. “I must admit something to you, Prompto.” 

Prompto raises an eyebrow at the change in topic, but he’s always been far too curious for his own good, so he doesn’t stop himself from turning towards Ignis. 

“I’m listening,” offers Prompto. 

“I hope you won’t think less of me for this, but I’ll confess I intended to give that chocobo to you.”    
  
Prompto blinks. 

“Huh?” He asks, confused.

“The merchant mentioned the chocobo plushie to me -- It was to be a gift for you.” 

Prompto feels like his chest might just implode in on itself like a black hole. Prompto doesn’t know what this means, but he knows what he  _ wants  _ it to mean. There’s a feeling, one he can’t shake, one that’s telling him that now is as good of a time as any. If Prompto’s misreading this conversation, then he’ll just lock himself in his room for a month and be done with it.    
  
He can handle a rejection, he  _ can _ . He’ll just be a little tender about it for the rest of his life, no big deal.    
  
As long as he can keep Ignis, in whatever way the man is comfortable with, then that’s all he needs. 

Prompto realizes he’s gone way too long without saying something; Ignis is giving into the nervous tick of fiddling his fingers in his lap, and Prompto is nearly knocked over by how badly he wishes to hold them. 

“Well, I guess it’s still kind of a gift for me. Since that meant as much to me as it did her. I’m glad it went to her.” 

Ignis’ fingers cease in their movements, and tension Prompto hadn’t realized had gathered melts out of him. Prompto does reach over Tonnie this time to grasp at Ignis’ hand. He’s not wearing his gloves today; his hand is warm, calloused, but somehow still soft. He wants to lace their fingers together but doesn’t want to push his luck.    
  
“Hey Iggy?” Prompto says, suddenly.    
  
It has to be now.    
  
It  _ needs _ to be now.    
  
Ignis’ hand twitch in his grip, but he makes no move to pull away. Prompto takes that as a good sign, uses it as fuel to push through this with a bullheaded stubbornness that usually only comes out in battle these days. 

“What is it, Prompto?” 

Prompto inhales.    
  
Exhales.    
  
Inhales one more time, and then jumps, 

“I love you.” 

Silence. 

He chances a look at Ignis -- not like his gaze could stray away from him for too long anyway -- and the carefully placed neutrality on his face is what hurts Prompto the most. If Ignis feels the force of his gaze, he doesn’t show it, if anything, it’s almost as if he’s purposely avoiding Prompto’s gaze.    
  
His insides twist uncomfortably.    
  
Shit.    
  
“Prompto.”    
  
“Um,” Prompto starts, and feels the immediate sting of tears in his eyes. He fervently preses the heels of his palms to his eyes to stave off the fresh rush of tears. “I -- we can just forget that happened, you know? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Iggy.”    
  
Prompto pushes himself off of the couch before he finishes his sentence, wanting to make a break for it before the tears truly start to spill over. He doesn’t want to make this situation more awkward than it already is. Crying in front of your roommate who you just confessed your feelings for is probably one of the most uncomfortable situations one can find himself in.    
  
Tonnie raises her head from where it was resting, sensing Prompto’s distress. He turns on his heel to make for his bedroom, but he barely gets two steps in when a hand pulls him back to the couch.    
  
“ _ Prompto _ ,” hisses Ignis, pained.    
  
Prompto stops in his tracks, but doesn’t turn around. Ignis’ grip on his wrist doesn’t falter. 

“Forgive me,” Ignis starts. “I was caught off-guard, as I’ve been trying to confess my feelings for you for a rather long time. Longer than is deemed appropriate.”    


His heart carefully sticks itself back together again. It’s held together by only duct tape and the first whispers of hope after the storm. Prompto internally tells himself to get a goddamn grip.    
  
Prompto furrows his eyebrows. “Iggy… what are you saying?” 

“That I am a complete arse. I’ve been rather fond of you since I was seventeen,” Ignis tells him. “I told myself to never expect anything from you.”    
  
Prompto slides off the couch, though this time instead of moving away, he steps forward so he’s standing in front of Ignis. Every line of the man’s body is tense again. 

He takes a deep, steadying breath.    
  
“If you don’t like this, feel free to push me off.”    
  
And then, without any preamble, he crawls into Ignis’ lap until he’s straddling the man’s thighs, letting one of his hands come up to rest on his chest, the other looping around Ignis’ neck. His body is tense beneath Prompto’s own, but then suddenly it isn’t, and the man beneath him is surging to life.    
  
Ignis’ hands settle on Prompto’s hip, tripping on their descent down the lines of Prompto’s sides. He can feel the warmth of Ignis’ hands through his shirt, calloused fingers rubbing patterns into the fabric. Prompto leans forward into the ghost of Ignis’ fingers, sighing.    
  
“Is this okay?” Prompto asks, even though he really doesn’t need to.    
  
“I have never once wished for my sight to come back more than this very moment,” Ignis says, around a smile. 

If it weren’t for Ignis’ hands holding his hips steady, Prompto definitely would’ve fallen off his lap. As it is, his face floods with color at Ignis’ words, his arm around Ignis’ neck tightening a little as he tries to gather his bearings and not seem like Ignis just completely wrecked his entire soul by being  _ sweet _ to him.    
  
Which is totally what happened.    
  
“Ignis,” Prompto whispers. “Dude. You’re killing me. You can easily give Gladio and his trashy romance novels a run for their money if you keep talking like that.”    
  
Ignis laughs. “Have I effectively turned your knees to mush, then?” 

“I don’t know, probably. Ask me again when I manage to make it off your lap again.”    
  
Ignis makes an agreeing noise. Prompto finds he simply cannot last another second without kissing him.    
  
Prompto knows if he thinks about it too long he’ll psyche himself out. That’s the last thing he wants, so he pushes everything clattering around in his brain -- Ignis loves him, Ignis loves him, holy flaming Ifrit, Ignis  _ loves _ him -- to the far corners of his mind, pressing forward enough so their chests rub together.    
  
The breath that stutters out of Ignis at the movement is the last thing Prompto hears as he closes the distance between their lips. Ignis’ lips are a little chapped, but are no less soft than Prompto had been expecting. The soundless gasp Ignis releases when Prompto tilts his head has him reeling, and he can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity to run his tongue along Ignis’ bottom lip. Ignis kicks himself into action then (finally), as Prompto’s arm around his neck shifts until his fingers are running through the strands at the back of Ignis’ head. 

Whereas Ignis was hesitant and chaste before, all of that has been burned away by a searing desperation that elicits a moan from Prompto at just how wet and  _ hot  _ it is. He’s never been kissed like this, like every little movement of his mouth is a blessing and Ignis wants to drown in it entirely. 

Eventually, unfortunately, they have to pull away when the necessity of breathing becomes too urgent to ignore. Prompto doesn't stop himself from leaning in almost instantly to whisper another kiss, dragging his teeth along Ignis’ bottom lip as he pulls away.    


Prompto’s eyes blearily blink open when they’re enough space between their faces for Prompto to get a good luck at Ignis’ face again. The man underneath him looks so thoroughly disheveled it’s safe to say Prompto’s never been more proud of anything in his life. He made  _ the _ Ignis Scientia lose his cool enough that he’s actually sweating a little bit.    
  
“Holy shit,” Prompto whispers, after he’s spent more than a few minutes staring at Ignis’ face, committing all that he can to memory. He counts the number of beauty marks that caress Ignis’ face (there are thirteen), traces the height of his cheekbones with his thumbs and doesn’t stop himself from kissing both of his cheeks. 

“My thoughts as well,” Ignis says, and Prompto basks in the delight of Ignis’ husky tone. 

“I want to kiss you like that every day,” Prompto blurts.    
  
Ignis laughs. “I’d say that can certainly be arranged.”    
  
Prompto cheeks ache from smiling so much, but he’ll be damned if he stops now. He loops his both arms around Ignis’ neck, scooting back into a more comfortable position on Ignis’ knees.

“What about multiple times a day?” Prompto asks.    


This time, the affection in Ignis’ voice is unmistakable. Prompto wishes he could roll around in it. 

“I suppose that would depend, darling.”    


Prompto makes a ‘hmph’ noise. Ignis must find it endearing rather than annoying, since he leans in to press a kiss to Prompto’s jawline. 

“On what?” he asks, and if he sounds a little bit petulant he doesn’t think anyone would blame him.    
  
“Allow me to take you on a date. On several dates, rather.”    
  
Prompto laughs. It sounds  _ happy _ . “We’ve already confessed our undying love for each other, Iggy. I think we’re past the first date stage, don’t you?” 

“Won’t you indulge me, Prompto? I believe we have a lot left to make up for.”    
  
“Hm,” Prompto starts. “I can indulge you, I guess. One one condition, though.”    
  
Ignis’ arms pull him closer to him. “Oh? Do tell.”    
  
Prompto sways into Ignis’ space so he can whisper in his ear. Ignis shudders from the tickle of his breath. 

“Be my boyfriend. And then I’ll go on all the dates with you. Every day will be a date.”    
  
Ignis’ laughter sounds in his ear again, and Prompto feels more than hears his answer. 

_ Yes _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> if you survived the huge offering of fluff, congratulations! you are so brave and strong and i am very proud of you!!


End file.
